Zuko's Rage
by redsquidz
Summary: It's been 100 years, and Aang still hasn't emerged from the iceburg. Just how different are everyone's lives?
1. Iroh

_Please R &R if you liked it! Feedback is just as delicious as tea from the white-dragon bush._

* * *

Iroh blinked, frozen, shocked by the unexpectedness of the embrace - but as soon as she initiated it, she broke away.

"Are you certain you do not require any further assistance in reforming the homeland?" She asked, as curt and abrasive as usual. Iroh could see through her tough exterior, though, and knew she asked out of care and concern for himself... although any other person would never have guessed she had even an ounce of compassion in her. Showing it was not an ability she had been born with, unfortunately.

"Thank you, Azula, but you are a leader and a soldier. You are most needed out there, capturing the rebels and finding Zhao. Strong, passionate people like yourself must be there to inspire others in restoring balance to the world. Leave the politics and governing duties to the old people, like myself," he joked.

"As you wish, Uncle." She stuck out a hand, which Iroh attempted to shake warmly, despite her stiffness. "I am proud to be your niece," she stated, referring to the changes Iroh was bringing to the Fire Nation and the hope he was restoring to the world. It was slow going, but Iroh could see that she was becoming more personable every time they met. "Expect a letter soon."

"I look forward to it," Iroh said, "your letters are a welcome distraction from the debating of the advisors."

She almost smiled, but wasn't able to follow through. It was something she was still learning to be comfortable with.

"And hey," Iroh said, stopping her from turning to leave, "speaking of nieces, I wouldn't mind seeing some grandnieces or grandnephews someday."

Azula gave a hesitant nod, acknowledging the underlying sincerity below his joking tone. "We shall see," she said. "Ty-Lee has been attempting to instruct me in such matters - under your suggestion, no doubt."

"I may have mentioned it," said, Iroh, smiling.

Uncertain what else to say, she wished him luck and gave a quick farewell before turning to leave. Her two guardsmen followed a moment later, still frozen in shock at their leader's humanity.

The door closed, leaving Iroh alone with his thoughts. He quickly attempted to busy himself by collecting the tea cups and saucers, but the reality of the day set in nonetheless.

It was the anniversary of the tragedy that had left him and Azula as the only known remaining members of their family. Azula's visit helped to lessen the grief, but the sadness and remorse Iroh felt was beyond any comforting presence.

Zuko had spent years hunting the Avatar, and as each season rose and fell, the hopelessness and rage grew stronger. Iroh had done his best to console his nephew, but after Zuko's brutal banishment and the growing feeling of futility of his journey, he had closed himself off from people. Their crew members became increasingly incompetent with every rotation, and their ship began to break down as the repairmen grew less and less willing to commit the resources to doing a thorough job.

After a while, they just sailed the cold, empty seas, with neither direction nor purpose. Contempt grew in Zuko, contempt for his father, for his home. The hatred hollowed him out, then filled him up, until Zuko finally commanded their crew to sail back to the capital. There, Zuko broke from the ship and made his way into Ozai's palace. His anger fueled his fire into an uncontrollable inferno that claimed not only his father's life and those of the military heads and the royal servents, but his own as well.

Iroh would never again be able to muster up as much love for another person... as much as he tried for Azula's sake and for the people of the Fire Nation. He had had so much hope in Zuko. He'd loved him like he had his own son, and this second loss had broken something in his heart that he had held onto so very closely.

Iroh placed the dishes into the sink and used it to support himself as he sobbed and shook, alone in the silent room. Tears ran down his cheeks in little trails, collecting on his nose, where they fell in droplets and mixed in with the tea leaves.


	2. Azula

_I got a scene in my head and decided to continue on with the AU. This chapter's a bit longer than the last and has some action, but the story will remain about the characters! Enjoy!_

* * *

Azula was slumped, panting, a drop of sweat sliding down the side of her head, but she kept her eyes on the man. With a deep breath she straightened and composed herself, resuming her fighting stance. Then, suddenly, she cried out and surged forward, resuming her attack, throwing blast after blast at him. She directed her ferocity and determination out into her fists and soles of her feet, rapidly igniting the energy and punching her blue fire out in a succession of well-coordinated movements, sweat flying from her head - but the man was no easy opponent.

Sure, it was difficult for him to knock aside the attacks that he couldn't evade, and those that he had to block full-force pushed him back a ways and left his midsection vulnerable (not that she was in a position to take advantage of that at the moment), but every so often he was able to catch her fire and swing it around and back toward her, and she had to watch out for that.

His fire _burned_. It was hot, so hot that Azula had to leap aside when it came toward her, and she was seriously reconsidering Uncle's recommendation for a hair crop - even if he _had_ only been teasing her at the time. Her hair was constantly needing to be rebound in the midst of their sparring, and she had been sparring so much recently that it was beginning to annoy her. It was never a problem with her old sparring partners, who only dealt out normal fire - which (while it _was_ still hot) was more pressure or impact-based, and _those_ she was more than capable of battering aside or kicking through. If she tried that with _his_ fire, though, she'd need to hire a whole team of seamstresses and cobblers to keep up with how quickly she'd be needing new sets of clothing and boots.

Azula rolled to her feet again after leaping away from another rebound of super-hot fire, tucking a loose bunch of hair back amidst those that were still tightly bound. Her eyebrows were furrowed, eyes seemingly filled with anger and hatred as she watched the man, but inside she felt almost the opposite. She respected her opponent, and found genuine enjoyment in their sparrings - even if she _did_ feel a pang of envy every now and then at his abilities (something that'd been completely alien to her up until recently and she was still learning to be comfortable with).

Her sparring partner stood opposite her in the arena, expression cool but concentrated, arms at the ready to block another attack. He wore a close-fit, dark-blue outfit and if not for the small, gold-plate earrings and the red-and-white sweat bands around his forehead and arms that spoke of his Sun Warrior culture, he would have looked like any other member of modern society.

 _How was he so efficient with his flame?_ Azula thought. Sure, it lacked the explosive force of normal fire, but it burned at such a high temperature that she couldn't see how he was able to keep it up throughout all their practices. Her old opponents would have already been exhausted and swapped out for fresh fighters at this point, yet here he was, still just as energetic as herself - if not moreso. She doubted that he had a better diet than she did, or had an exercise program that was better than hers, so there had to be something he was doing that she hadn't incorporated into her routine yet.

Azula composed herself once more and breathed, deeply, feeling her breath regenerate her inner fire. She was getting tired, but she was able to recover enough strength to potentially be able to gain the upperhand. Pooling her strength out into her fists again, she resumed her fighting stance and attacked, igniting bits of energy and rapidly punching them toward the Sun Warrior.

She moved, circling him, keeping to her strategy of precise targeting: her attacks were powerful, and if she aimed directly at him, he would be forced to block and wouldn't be able to send them back toward her. Unfortunately, however, her blasts had declined far from where they'd been earlier, and he was able to deflect most of them single handedly.

Suddenly, the man's eyes narrowed as he recognized a pattern in her attacks. After blocking her most recent attack he swung out an arm and swiped two fingers through the air, pulling a trail of fire seemingly out of nowhere, and flung it toward her. Azula's eyes widened at the sudden counter-attack and dove aside, feeling the skin of her legs blister as she just barely dodged the stream of flame. He swung his other hand out and stepped toward her, repeating the scooping-motion and flinging another stream toward her before she could ready herself for another roll. Thinking quickly, Azula swung a leg and sent a wave of fire toward the attack, neutralizing it as it blew through.

Thinking she'd found time to recover, she smirked and hopped back up. However, as the wave sailed through the man's fire, she realized that she'd aimed poorly - the man was able to step back and stretch out his arms, spin her counter-attack into a fireball, then swing it around in the air and throw it back toward her.

Azula leapt backward as the flames burst across the metal floor where she'd been standing. As they tumbled outward and dissipated they left a dull, red oval of hot iron, and Azula's eyes widened again at the impressiveness of his firebending. The man was certainly a worthy opponent - so perhaps it was time to see how he handled something a little more _shocking_.

Following the well-practiced motions, eyebrows still furrowed, Azula quickly made large circles with each of her hands and separated the energy around her, then readied the path out toward her fingertips. She felt the sparks snapping around her, smelt the burnt air, and just as the man's eyes widened in realization she thrust her fingers forward... but the man had reacted incredibly quickly.

As the crack of lightning split the air apart between them, the man's own fingers rose and connected with it. Azula remembered with a sudden horror how Uncle had spoken of a redirection tactic and started to throw herself to the side, but she could already tell she was too late. She watched the man's other hand come up, fingers - _wait_ , they were oddly spread out, and his _open palm_ was facing her - then, suddenly, intense pain split through Azula's head.

She collapsed to her knees, screaming, her vision whited-out with the red image-scar of the man thrusting his palm toward her burnt into her eyes, feeling as though she'd been stabbed through the skull.

The spectating royal guards cried out in alarm, "Princess Azula! Princess Azula!"

"Stay back!" She commanded in her harsh voice, directing a hand in the direction of their cries, still blinded with the red-and-white vision-scar.

She breathed, trying to recover. She brought her hand up to her face and felt that her cheeks were wet - just tears, fortunately, as the liquid wasn't sticky enough to be blood. Touching her skin felt painful, as if she'd just spent an entire day laying out in the sun. Well, she wasn't dead, so it hadn't been lightning that had struck her.

The Sun Warrior's voice was slow and controlled as he approached: "Do you concede defeat?"

 _Not again,_ Azula thought, rapidly coming up with justifications for the match to be merely postponed.

After all, she hadn't ever fought with someone that could redirect lightning, or blind her in a single movement for that matter. However, she knew that _not being prepared_ would have never passed as an excuse under Father, and even though he'd been a war-mongering psychopath his lessons stuck with her. There was, after all, an undeniable logic to them, and it was actually somewhat likely that Uncle would have _agreed_ with him for once. She had been defeated, and she had to accept that and learn what she could from it.

She felt for the ground, disoriented and blind, clothing moving painfully over her skin, and staggered to her feet. She positioned herself toward where the man's voice had been, placed her hands together and bowed as much as she was able to, saying, "I concede defeat. Thank you for the match."

Azula straightened again, hoping her vision would start to return, but the red image-scar of the man with his hand outstretched was still as present as before and pain still throbbed through her head. "Now, please, heal me."

The man spoke again in his slow dialect. "I'm sorry, Princess Azula, but you need to see the water-healer. The element we share can only be used to invigorate and accelerate healing, not soothe or balance."

"Fine," Azula said, then tried to soften the accidental sharpness of her voice, "then would you please escort me?" She asked, consciously making herself use a _request_ rather than a command.

"Very well."

Azula felt the man get close to her and place one hand down on her shoulder, where her robes had blocked his attack, and the other under her arm, around her ribs. Her face turned red and eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and embarrassment at the audacity of the man to touch her with his savage hands, but Uncle's voice rose reflexively at her harsh thoughts and reminded her of the position she was in; that the man was from a different culture where his actions might have been more appropriate; and was actually a very respectable person. A moment later her face relaxed and she hated herself for thinking of the man as savage, but kept her expression neutral.

The man smelled of exotic spices, and his guidance was gentle, but firm. Azula's concerns over the man's competency rose again out of habit, but as he confidently directed her into the cool of the ship and through the hallways, calmly pausing and warning her of pipes or doorframes, holding her with his skillful hands and strong arms as they descended stairways, the thoughts were continually dismissed. The man knew what he was doing, and she almost felt herself relax in his grip. Almost.

Besides, if any of the _crew_ spoke out at the sight of her, she would simply… again, Uncle's presence rose in her mind, but this time in response to the thoughts of violence - she breathed. She would simply speak with them. It was unlikely enough for them to step out of line, anyways. She knew that she still had a fairly intimidating presence, despite the last year or so of trying to become more personable with the help of Ty Lee.

"Oh dear," said some old woman ahead of them. "That's quite the sunburn."

The man gently restrained her as he stopped, then spoke: "Princess Azula's eyes are in need of immediate medical attention."

The woman's breath caught and she hushed an order to her assistant: "Karra, dear, go ready an aloe-bath."

"There's really no need to be so concerned," Azula said, voice sharp and confident. The Sun Warrior moved her forward and gently pulled her hand toward the back of a chair, which she instinctively grabbed onto and felt her way down into the seat. "Merely an unusual injury from a sparring exercise," she continued.

Suddenly, a cool cloth - no, just water - surrounded her eyes and forehead, and the thumping pain at the back of her eye sockets immediately began to recede.

"Thank you," Azula said, to both the man and the old woman.

She could tell from the lack of the old woman's response that she was concentrating, so Azula directed her voice toward the Sun Warrior. "What is it that you did, exactly?" She asked, trying to keep her voice casual. "I must say I've never had someone block one of my lightning attacks, and there's no record of someone capable of inducing both blindness and a sunburn in a single move."

The Sun Warrior was silent for a moment before he spoke, and Azula wondered for a split second if he was still in the room (most people answered her immediately, even if it was little more than stuttering half the time).

"It is an ancient and highly advanced Sun Warrior battle art," he said, "and I may not be the best person to explain it. To put it simply, I projected highly concentrated sunlight. I had to use an adaptation of Firelord Iroh's lightning-redirection technique to make use of the incredible amount of energy I'd intercepted." He paused. "Lightning is very dangerous."

Azula's eyebrows furrowed in the realization of her mistake. She could have seriously injured the man - what had she been thinking?

 _Perhaps, Azula, you weren't,_ said Uncle's voice in her head.

She would have never used lightning in an ordinary sparring match. She'd just gotten so caught-up in the excitement that she'd stopped paying attention to what she was doing.

Father's harsh voice rose out of a memory in which she'd just lost a childhood sparring match and had demanded that her tutor be imprisoned: _If you get injured in a fight, Azula, it is your fault, and the same is true if you do greater harm than intended on another. You must be constantly vigilant and in control, or your carelessness will lead you to failure, and there is no greater disgrace._ Her tutor had still been imprisoned, of course, but Father's words had stung nonetheless.

 _Even if they were wrong_ , Azula thought, thinking of one of Uncle's lessons: if you never accepted failure, you'd never acknowledge poor habits and improve yourself.

She felt the water pull away from her face and heard the old woman say, "Okay dear, open your eyes and tell me how everything's looking."

Azula squinted and reflexively wiped at her eyes, but the woman had already gotten all the water off. She blinked and looked around, trying to catch shapes or outlines in the darkness. The Sun Warrior's scarred image had become much more dull, and she could dimly make out the figure of the old woman and the Sun Warrior in the room before her, but she still had a long way to go.

"The healing was insufficient," she said, then tried to soften her voice. "I am able make out some shapes, but I still have a great difficulty seeing anything recognizable."

"I feared as much. Not to worry, though, I will continue the treatment as you bathe and you'll be back to full health by the morning."

"The _morning?_ What do you mean?"

"Yes," she said cautiously, "I'm afraid the injury may take a bit longer than normal to heal. I have calmed the area quite a bit, but encouraging the body's energy to flow toward a particular spot is a lengthy process, especially with an unusual injury like this."

Azula frowned and the Sun Warrior spoke up.

"My people are fairly skilled at accelerating healing. If there are no objections, I can offer my services."

Azula was skeptical, despite what she'd heard and seen of the Sun Warrior's abilities. These were _her eyes_ , after all, and it didn't seem logical that fire could help heal.

The old woman's voice sounded equally doubtful. "I'm sure your _people_ have their _customs_ and _rituals_ , young man," the woman said, the condescending tone suddenly making Azula bristle with anger, "but this is a _professional medical bay_ and only _verified_ -"

" _Silence,_ " Azula ordered, but recognized that her doubts may have led her to say something similar only moments ago. Then, speaking as much to the woman as to herself, she said: "I have seen much of this man's talent and it is foolish of you to speak of things you have no knowledge over. You are being incredibly ignorant and are perpetuating stereotypes. If you dare to talk down upon my associates again…" she paused, becoming aware of how harsh her voice sounded.

Thinking the threat was meant to be left lingering in the air, the old woman began to apologize profusely in a tone that was the complete reverse of how she'd been speaking moments ago, with a satisfying and rather enjoyable touch of fear in her voice.

Azula tuned her out, anger abating, and consciously suppressed the growing urge to smirk that usually rose when people started pleading to her. Then, suddenly acknowledging the urge for what it was, Azula wondered where it came from - people were _afraid_ of her, intimidated by her, and she _liked_ it. That sounded like a typical "evil character" trait from the plays she'd seen as a child, or something that Father would do, and so it was undoubtedly rooted in that part of her she'd been working so hard to rid herself of. Yet here it was, unaffected by all her efforts, as if its source was no closer to being resolved than that first day when she and Uncle had reconnected as family.

 _Why do I enjoy this woman's fear?_ Azula thought.

 _It is natural to enjoy the fear of your subordinates,_ said Father's voice. _That is how you know they are under your control, and that you have power over them. And complete power, Azula, is the ultimate achievement in life._

 _No,_ Azula thought, frowning and eyebrows furrowing, _t_ _hat's not true!_ _Fear destroys loyalty and pushes away the people that are close to you!_

Suddenly, Azula registered that the old woman's apologies had increased in desperation and were being directed additionally toward the Sun Warrior. Her facial expression must have been misinterpreted by the old woman!

"It is of no concern," the man was saying, casually dismissing her apologies.

"Yes," Azula said, softening both her voice and face. "Mistakes are necessary for one to learn."

"Oh- okay," the old woman stammered with a hint of confusion, before resuming and profusely thanking her for her kindness and gracious understanding.

"Please," Azula said, stopping the woman. Azula sighed. "How are you planning on proceeding with the treatment?"

"Uh- yes, next, I have drawn an aloe-bath that should help restore your skin. During this time, your eye injuries were to continue to be massaged by my water-healing."

"The Sun Warrior will oversee the healing. I will not discourage you from observing the process if you wish to be present. Is the water ready?"

"Karra," the woman said, strict tone suddenly resurfacing, "is the water ready?"

There was a weak mumble in response, and Azula frowned.

"Madam," she said, "I am attempting to withhold harsh tones while a speak with you, and you would do well to extend that courtesy to your assistant."

"Oh, yes of course, my apologies Princess."

Azula sighed.

She turned her attention to the Sun Warrior. "Very well. Will you please escort me to the bath? Also," Azula said with a touch of guilt, "what is your name, by the way?"

"I am Jai, after my grandmother and previous Chief, Jaiza. And yes, I shall escort you."

Azula watched dark shapes shift in her vision and felt hands on her shoulder and side just as before, and she pushed herself up out of the chair.

"Jai," she asked with a sudden realization, "what are your people's attitude toward nudity?" The old woman let out a _meep._

"It is not uncommon, nor stigmatized as it is by your people," he said, leading her forward into the room. "However clothing, as well as body paint and jewelry, are often worn for aesthetic purposes."

"Very well." So the embarrassment would be hers to bear alone - the medical staff was undoubtedly familiar with the human physique.

Azula got to the tub, carefully pulled the robes off her sensitive skin, and was guided by Jai as she walked up a small set of stairs and carefully stepped into the bath. The water was air-temperature, and Azula unbound her hair and let herself settle into it.

"You may begin," Azula said.

The water instantly began to sooth her skin, coolness seeming to roll up from her feet to her neck and back down again as the shadow of the woman's figure made motions above the water. The blisters on the back of her legs throbbed, but the pain soon began to ebb.

A warm, tingling sensation, accompanied by the man's smell of exotic spices, began to glow around her forehead and eyes, and she suddenly felt as if she'd just had an entire kettle of Uncle's morning tea. She'd only felt fire-healing once before, and while there were some similarities between it and water-healing, you could tell it was a completely different element. However, it wasn't like the fire she was familiar with - in fact, as she felt at his energy with her own firebending sense, she realized his fire's source was completely different than normal and that his fire-streams had actually shared the same, unfamiliar signature.

"Jai," she asked, "would you be able to instruct me on performing fire-healing?"

There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry, Princess Azula, but I don't think that's something I will be able to teach you."

Azula didn't say anything, studying his unfamiliar energy. What was it about his technique that was so different than normal? Was it something particular to his culture that he'd been raised with and had taken years to master? Whatever it was, it seemed to be extremely valuable - not only had the Sun Warrior been able to absorb her lightning, but he was able to _transform_ it and perform a firebending attack she'd never seen before.

"What about the sunlight-attack?" She asked, tentatively.

"The Flare is an ancient and highly advanced art," he said, repeating himself from earlier, "and no, I cannot help you with that either."

She remained silent. Maybe Jai couldn't help her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be able to learn from someone else.

 _But what if_ \- Azula thought, suddenly worried - _what if it has to do with a person's nature?_ Images of Father flashed through her mind, being cruel and unfair to the people below him, imprisoning without a second thought, enjoying the fear of others and the destruction of other nations, and she recognized that some of these were things she was prone to doing as well. Dread filled her heart. _Is that how I am inside?_

She saw Zuko, her _brother_ , on his knees, tears streaming from his face as he begged for forgiveness, and Father mercilessly pummeling him until the skin of his face was swollen and split, streaked with blood from the burns. She had _been_ there, had _enjoyed_ Zuko's weakness and injuries at Father's cruelty, and now they were both gone. _Dead_ , all because of Father's evil nature, the same nature she could very well share. Their house was empty now, Uncle broken inside, and she had let it all happen. She had even been _amused_ by it at the time _._ _Was she really that monstrous? How could she have enjoyed seeing her brother suffer?_

"Princess Azula, are you in pain?" The Sun Warrior asked.

She realized her face was screwed up and that she was crying. She tried to calm her expression, but the tears kept leaking out, and she gasped in frustration.

" _I'm fine_ ," she accidentally snapped, then hoped the Sun Warrior would forgive her. "I'm just… having unpleasant memories, that's all. There's no need for -" she gasped again and stopped as she remembered Father pointing a finger and smiling as he banishing Zuko's unconscious form.

Once the quiet of the room became unbearable, she spoke again: "I'm just having a difficult time with myself," she said, talking quickly. "I'm trying to become a better person, but I don't know - I don't know if -" she stopped again.

A moment passed, and Azula forced her eyes open to distract herself from the memories and the unpleasant thoughts. Her vision had vastly improved - she could see the man's hand-flames tumbling softly above her, white and gentle, and the water of the bath glowed as the woman passed her hands back and forth, her expression stoic and concentrated as if she felt she shouldn't be hearing this.

Azula sighed. "I suppose I just don't know where to begin. I've been trying to become more personable, but it's so… so difficult. I don't know myself very well. I'm worried about my nature. I don't want to hurt the people in my life." _I don't want to become like Father,_ she thought. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to change, and have no idea how to start improving myself."

A moment passed as the old woman's rhythmic hand-motions passed over the water.

Suddenly, the Sun Warrior spoke again. "That," he said, "may be something that I can help you with."

* * *

 _Please leave a review to let me know if there's anything I can improve upon! I'm enjoying this AU quite a bit and want to hear some feedback!_

 _See ya!_


	3. Toph

She heard them - but she didn't need to. It was enough to feel them. The stomping. The jumping. The hundreds and hundreds of bodies moving and jostling around in anticipation, the trembling and shaking of the stone above her from the crowds filling the stands. It was intimidating, enthralling, stimulating, and she loved every minute of it: the building anxiety, the restlessness in her muscles, the thrill and power that swelled in her chest.

Something about it always pulled her back. Maybe it was that rush of accomplishment she got from smashing her opponents off the platform, or the roar from the stands as her fist was pulled into the air by the ref. Maybe it was the knowledge that she had defeated someone, that she'd been more powerful and had overwhelmed a person that was recognized for their strength and physical prowess. They were icons of masculinity, and defeating them put her on top. Outside, in the day-to-day, she simply fed herself and rested. Here, she lived.

"Damn," Lee said, gravelly voice pulling her from her reverie. "She just got taken out."

 _Shit,_ she thought. That was gonna set Narissa's goals back a couple weeks.

"Who?"

"That Erikku brother. The runty one."

Damn. She respected the Erikku brothers, but she had a stronger connection to Narissa. There weren't too many female rumblers, and she took each of their losses personally - after all, a person's sex shouldn't be a factor in their decision to become a rumbler, and that was something she'd been trying to drive home. Look at her: sure, she had a bit more training than most, but outside of that she firmly believed there wasn't anything special about her.

"You ready? You're up next, kid."

She didn't say anything, but stood as a way of response.

The uniform she wore was tight and minimal: a long strip of cloth, wound closely around her torso, secured her breasts in place; a small pair of shorts fit snugly over her waist and groin; and the classic brown, studded guards were strapped around each of her arms and shins. In contrast with the other pieces, she also wore one loose article of clothing: her green-and-yellow vest, which was fashioned after the style of her childhood outfit. All-in-all, the uniform left a lot of her skin exposed, but it allowed her to stay agile and dodge projectiles - a tactic which all the upper-level rumblers were beginning to use in matches against her, so she didn't mind the trade-off. What she _did_ mind, though, were all the comments people made. She could hear them now as she approached the entryway to the arena, chanting " _Blind Beau-ty! Blind Beau-ty!_ ".

She'd gotten used to it, though, even if she didn't like it.

"Who am I up against?"

He hesitated, and she suddenly realized that he'd already told her. "Hiro."

"Sorry... long week," she said, as a way of an excuse. "Went all over town. Nobody wants to hire a blind earthbender."

She wouldn't have bothered to say anything if it had been anyone else. This was Lee, though.

"You'll find something," he said, giving her a sympathetic cuff on the shoulder as they stood in the doorway. "See you in forty minutes."

"Thirty," she smirked, and walked out of the locker-room as the great doors smashed open violently. She cracked her knuckles and left the cool dark of the locker-room, letting the swell of anticipation in her muscles lead her out toward the arena.

The roar and cheering of the crowd washed over her, growing as each section of the stone walkway rose into place before here. Cutting clearly through it all, the announcer's voice rang out: "... _please welcome..._ _the seven-year world champion... the beautiful... the deadly..._ _BLIND BANDIT!_ "

Forty-five minutes later, Toph was back in the locker-room. Outside, the segments of the walkway fell back into the ground in succession until, lastly, the heavy stone doors slammed behind her dramatically and shut out the noise of the stands. Finally away from the audience, Toph relaxed from her pose of dominance and made her way over to her locker.

"Hey," a voice said. Toph flinched in surprise, but played it off. It was Narissa.

"How's the _Tectonic Terror_?" Toph asked, with an appropriate amount of verbal elbowing.

"Better than Hiro, I'd say. You can _definitely_ sense those projectiles, can't you?"

Toph smirked, unwinding the remnants of the tape from her knuckles. "Sorry, that's a trade-secret."

"C'mon, you don't even have a hair out of place! I don't know how you do it!"

The subtle longing in her voice made Toph turn serious.

She pulled the rest of the tape off her fingers and turned to her. "Practice," she said. "You know that. Practice _everyday_ , until your knuckles bleed, until your feet can feel somebody drop their coins out on the street when you're up in your second-floor apartment. That's how you do it."

They were silent for a minute as Toph went back to her locker and dug her clothes out, unfurling her hair from the dense braid she wore during matches. Grabbing her pants, she leaned over and pulled them up her legs, not bothering to remove her shin-guards.

"Besides," she grunted as she straightened back up, "you're getting there. How long were you out with Erikku?"

"Hour-twenty."

"Hour-twenty, fifty minutes in the dust? That's stamina right there. Erikku's tough, but you can be tougher. He's got a style, and now that you've fought him you know it."

Toph sensed Narissa listening with her full attention, soaking up every word, just like every time she gave her a pep talk.

"You're in the big leagues now, and you're not going to win every fight. When you get knocked out, try to take a part of the match with you. Learn from it. Don't start doubting yourself, just acknowledge your mistakes and improve. I know you're good at that, you rose faster through the ranks than a lot of the other rumblers I've seen. Keep practicing. You'll win the next one."

"You bet that ass I will," Narissa said, standing with confidence - even though Toph could sense some continued apprehension from the tension in her movements.

She ignored it, though, knowing that the feeling would help to motivate her. She pulled a hooded sweater on over her uniform to hide herself out in public and headed toward the exit, but paused to end the conversation. Deciding to go out with some tough love, she punched Narissa on the shoulder - "I know. It wasn't a suggestion," she said. "You train up and bury his ass!"

Later that night, Toph was staring her drink down inside the Molten Crater. Well, not _staring_ so much as feeling out all the little surface details of the cup - where chips had been broken away when it was shaped, the technique that'd been used to grind down the edges, the way the magma had flowed before it solidified...

Suddenly, Toph felt a hand on her shoulder. "Listen pal," she said, "unless you're bringing me another drink, you either walk away or get thrown through the wall. Not in the mood for company."

"What if it's an old friend?" It was Lee again. "By which I mean a friend who's old, mind you."

She smiled, happy he'd found her.

"Damn Lee, I thought you hated coming to this place!"

"I do. You trying to avoid me?"

"No, not at all. Just needed something hot and these Fire Nation guys know how to do it right."

"Yeah, I know you like that Fireball."

She kicked the floor, causing the stool next to her to scoot out for him to sit on.

Lee plopped down like a sack of root-vegetables and ordered a mug from the bartender - a drink Toph commonly referred to as "rice-flavored pansy water".

"What's the deal with you and this place, anyway?" Toph asked. "You've never told me."

"Eh, not that big of a secret," he said. "They don't have anything good on the menu. What about you, kid? Didn't see you after that match today. Not that I really looked, of course - that ugly face of yours."

"Heh. I, uh, got inspired to go for a run."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, bumped into Narissa in the locker-room," she said, taking a drink. "I hate it when people don't commit to something, you know? Especially if it's something that they _want_ to do. They make excuses, tell themselves it's not worth it or something, and they give up. Pisses me off."

The bartender finished pouring and set Lee's mug down in front of him.

"Hey…" the bartender said. They turned their attention to him: he was an elderly man, and was looking at Lee with an odd expression. "Sorry. I thought I recognized you for a minute. Can I get you guys anything else?"

"We're all - _bruuhuh -_ " Toph burped - "set!"

She turned toward Lee. "How've _you_ been doing, anyway?"

"Oh, not bad," he said. "Taking it one day at a time, you know? Some of the coworkers get on my nerves, but it's no big deal in the long run."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's this, uh, firebender that I work with - I think he used to be a general for Sozin, maybe. I was just doing what I do, shoveling coal into that smelter to keep the temperature up, and he was talking to a couple of the other workers. Being all loud, like he wanted everybody to listen in on what he was saying. He was going off about that mess at the North pole…" there was a noticeable tension in his voice, some of his anger resurfacing.

He took a drink and sighed. "Ah, I don't really wanna talk about it. Best not to pay attention to that stuff, you know?"

"You gonna work there forever?"

"I wouldn't mind it."

Toph made a facial expression Lee had come to learn as the equivalent of the skeptical-eyebrow-raise.

"Honestly!" He said. "It's not a bad gig, all in all."

They sat there for a little while, drinking and listening to the chatter of the tavern. Toph was more than happy to just sit there in silence, enjoying Lee's familiar presence as the booze relaxed her. The atmosphere of the place was warm and comfortable, a little humid, maybe, but still nice. All too soon, though, it came to an end.

"Hey, what about you, Miss Bandit?" Lee asked, in that tone she'd come to recognize.

 _Damn, this conversation again,_ she thought.

"I could keep going."

"Oh yeah?"

" _Yeah._ " She said, straightening up. She _really_ didn't want to talk about this, and Lee should've known that. Why couldn't they just sit there? Why did it always come back to what _she_ was doing?

"Listen, Toph," Lee said, voice soft - "how many times've you been down in the pit this month? Not the big arena... not the show."

"How do you know about that? Have you been following me?"

"No, I haven't been _following_ you, Toph. You're always so damn suspicious, you know that? No, you've been getting all sorts of cuts and bruises, and don't tell me it's from going into those tunnels. You're too good of a bender for that. Where'd you get this, huh?" Lee poked her arm, where a long scratch had scabbed over. "- And your shoulder's bruised. Looks a week old, and his was your first official match all month."

"What do you care?!" Toph said, a little loudly.

A few people sitting at surrounding tables quieted, one of them whispering : " _Is that the Blind Beauty?"_

Toph had just about had it.

Lee kept his voice calm, trying to soothe her. "Listen, I'm your friend, right? This isn't a good way of life, being, you know, _angry_ all the time and beating yourself up!"

That did it. Toph hit the table and stood, ending the conversation. "You don't know anything about me!"

She turned and headed for the door. Lee dug some coins out of his pocket, quickly checked that they would cover their drinks, then dropped them on the bar. He stood and took off after her, not wanting to make a bigger scene. Outside the tavern, though, he grabbed her arm:

"You're right. I don't know how you live. But I know a few things, Toph: I know about anger, and I know you can't be in the pit forever. Not if you wanna live through the next twenty years. The body can only take so much, you know that!"

"Well what if I don't care about the next twenty years, huh?!" She said, tugging her arm away. "And I've had enough of people talking about my _body_ for today, _thanks._ And I don't need _you_ , or _anyone_ , looking after me! I can take care of myself, got it?"

"Damn it, Toph -"

"I'm going home! Don't follow me."

Toph didn't fall asleep for a while that night. She knew she'd been too hard on Lee, but she was seriously tired of him bringing it up... even though he really didn't bring it up _that_ often, to be honest. Still, though, what else was she supposed to do? Who was going to hire a blind person? She knew that she'd be great for carrying and loading things, but no moving or transportation business was going to hire her. The rent had to be paid somehow, and there was no way she'd be able to go to her parents for help. _That_ tunnel had fallen in.

She could probably get a job pulverizing all the rocks in farmers' fields, or making gravel or cement or some other construction material, but with the whole "not being able to see" thing she'd probably be put pretty low on the "potential hire" list.

Regardless, she was going to need to apologize to Lee tomorrow. There wasn't exactly a tight group of friends in her life, and even if she liked to say that she could make it on her own, it was nice to at least have _someone_ to talk to.

* * *

The street outside was already noisy by the time Toph woke.

Someone was rapping on her door. Her palm flew to the ground, trying to read the vibrations of the building - there were two men outside in the hallway.

Standing from the bed mat, she slowly made her way to the door, trying to listen for voices through the throbbing in her head.

"Think anyone's in there?" One of them asked.

They knocked on the door again.

Toph could sense that their stances were formal, so more likely than not they were law enforcement. Which meant they were here for a reason. Which meant she'd either done something stupid, or they wanted something from her. Either way, they'd keep coming back until they got a hold of her. _Shit._ She'd have to answer this.

Trying to make her voice as gentle as possible, she called out: "One minute please!"

Hastily raking her fingers through her hair and hoping her face wasn't covered in dirt, she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to talk through.

"Who's there?" She asked, cautiously, as if she were a helpless lady that couldn't eject them through the hallway wall with a stomp of her foot.

"Police, m'am. May we have a moment?"

Toph opened the door.

"Hello, we - um -" he stuttered - "we're here to ask if you've seen any suspicious people around lately. You see, there's been an incident in your area, and we're trying to get the jump on this thing and see if there's any witnesses."

Something about their demeanor clued Toph off that they were probably firebenders, but she didn't say anything.

"No, I haven't, officer. I'm actually blind."

"Oh, I see - that is - umm - uh, well, if you see anything, or _hear_ anything, rather, please try to pass it along."

"You're blind?" The second man said, his voice considerably deeper than the first's. "If you don't mind me saying so, m'am, your home looks very well put-together. Do you live with someone that helps out, by chance?"

Huh?

"No, why do you ask?" Toph asked, trying to keep suspicion out of her voice.

"Well, it's my younger sister, you see. She was blinded by fire a few years back, during the Extraction, and has been living with our parents ever since. Being as independent as you are, it would mean a great deal if you were able to come by and visit her. I don't know how busy your schedule is, but she's pretty down about her situation and I'm sure a conversation with someone such as yourself would do a lot of good. She works in the laundry house by the river up town. Do you know it?"

"Yes," Toph said, somewhat taken aback, "although I'm not sure how much help I'll be. I use earthbending to help find my way around."

"Oh, you don't say? Well, in any case, I'm sure she'd love to hear from you. She doesn't have too many friends, and even fewer people in her situation. Please consider it."

"Yeah, um, sure."

"Also -" the first man said, piping back up - "if you happen to have any firebending friends or work with any, tell them to be careful. We don't want to alarm anyone, but the perpetrator appears to be targeting firebenders specifically."

"Oh."

"But please, don't worry, just keep an eye out - or, uh, an open ear, or something, for any information."

"The incident - was anyone hurt?" Toph asked, remembering having heard about a string of firebender murders over the past few years.

"Again, we don't want to make anyone concerned, but the incident did involve a casualty. At the moment, there's a strong likelihood that it's related to the string of homicides I'm sure you've heard of, but there still so little we know at the moment. I'm afraid that's all we're at liberty to say. Do you know where the nearest law enforcement office is?"

"Yes."

"Well, please stay alert and warn others around you to keep a look out, and report any suspicious activity that you might see. The more eyes we have, the better! Or, uh, ears, um -"

"Alright."

"Have a nice day, m'am," the deeper-voiced man said. "And stop by the laundry house sometime!"

Toph closed the door and absent-mindedly made her way to the water basin, where she scooped up a ladle-full and drank to help clear her headache.

Another homicide, another dead firebender… well, seeing as the occupation had only recently ended and the Fire Nation military was forcibly deporting people, it wasn't hard to imagine that there was _some_ sort of backlash. Good thing she was a citizen of the Earth Kingdom.

Toph spent the day the same way she spent every one: she cleaned up any mess from last night, jogged up to the mountains around noon, spent the next four hours getting lost in the badger-mole tunnels and finding her way back out again (occasionally resorting to bending, even if she preferred the challenge of making it out without using it), bathed in the shallow pools along the river, then jogged back into town, all the while thinking about where she wanted to eat that evening.

After changing out of her exercise clothes, she went to check on Lee again - he hadn't come to his door earlier - and was happy when he answered it. Although he wasn't up for going out to eat, she was able to get her apology in and leave the conversation in a fairly polite fashion. More or less.

She then went back to the Molten Crater, but finding it closed went to a food cart instead. There, she bought a bowl of rice and pig-chicken off the very friendly cart attendant, who was winding down from the dinner-rush and happily told her all about the ranch the pig-chickens were raised on as he went about cleaning his utensils. She then went to an underground Rumble pit, where she handed over some money for entry - spectators were way overcharged - and was able to sit through three full matches without anyone coming up and disturbing her (for once).

Afterward she went out for drinks, but finding the Crater still closed ended up at a the "Sea Urchin", another popular tavern, but themed after the water-tribes. She took a seat at the bar, and over the course of the evening two men and one lady came up and tried to strike up a conversation, but she wasn't the best at keeping it going and nothing came of it.

That was fine by her, though, she didn't mind just sitting there. There was an overweight man in the corner playing a stringed musical instrument, and a small audience had gathered around him and clapped when he finished songs. She thought about asking him to let her try playing it, but ended up just listening.

She stayed until the place closed, at which point the owner's son helped her back to her place - this wasn't the first time this had happened. She knew that the son had a thing for her, but she was too clumsy of a drunk for the boy to do or say anything outside of trying to keep her from knocking buildings down (and it's not like he'd have had the stones to make a move on her anyway).

Once back at her place, she threw her clothes in random directions, broke a few cups in the process of adding a few more decorative holes to the walls, passed out at the table, woke up at some point in the middle of the night, and got into bed... scratches scabbing over and bruises healing.


End file.
